Idylls of the King
by morrigan58
Summary: A/L slash, AU (warning: A/L marriage, mpreg, sap) This fic will no longer have an NC-17 chapter, although I strongly disagree with the site's ban. The original NC-17 version will be posted on www.fandomination.net
1. The King is a Hunting

Chapter One:  
  
1 The King's a Hunting  
  
Here it goes! If you haven't read the notes, please go back and do so! They will hopefully cure any confusion.  
  
"…Next case, sire, is a peculiar situation in which…" Faramir's voice drifted through one of the King's ear and out the other, which was unfortunate for the man who was up next for royal justice. Now, Aragorn Elessar was a just and noble king, but one who was rather over-worked, and had many pressing matters on his mind. Debt issues, city health conditions, and problems with corrupt provincial officials were just some of the things that were eating away at the realm and throne he had worked so hard to maintain.  
  
So dealing with petty squabbles at weekly public court was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He had already taken over two hundred cases, but knew he couldn't take much more, not today. He motioned for Faramir, his seneschal, to come close. The russet-haired seneschal ascended the dais, while a commoner holding a bandaged arm and a squawking chicken waited impatiently for the king's advice.  
  
"Faramir," Aragorn asked wearily, rubbing his aching temples, "How many more this afternoon?"  
  
"Well, sire…about sixty-three." Faramir whispered, looking down at an unfurled scroll.  
  
Aragorn sighed, "I am much to tired to devote any more attention to the cases; it would be better if you would take over."  
  
Faramir's brow creased in concern, but he nodded, turning to address the court and the visiting commoners. "Mi'lords and Ladies, and those who come to seek royal judgment, I must announce the King is to retire for the day, as he has other matters he must attend to. Do not be concerned, for I shall finish today's session".  
  
A light murmur rippled through the great hall, but all quieted and bowed as Aragorn stood and handed his scepter to Faramir. The King bowed back, before leaving through a door just behind his throne.  
  
As he heard business resume behind him, Aragorn stretched with relief and escaped up a stairwell to his chambers, loosening the ties on his heavy and ornate tunic and robe, tossing the stiff, royal blue velvet on the floor of his bedroom. The King's apartments were large, but moderately decorated, lacking the obvious finesse and tastes of a Queen. The bed was dressed with thick, dark gray linens and silks, and white curtains hung from the tall posts that marked the bed's four corners. A large armoire holding the royal garments rested against the west wall, near the entrance to the balcony, which led to the door of Aragorn's private study and library. In the wall across from the balcony was the door of the King's bathing chamber. Apart from the necessary pillared candles, the only other decorations in the rooms were the elaborately woven tapestries that blanketed and warmed the stone walls. They told the tales of the kings that had come before Aragorn, and were woven by Aragorn's mother, a lonely queen who had little other to do once her only child was grown.  
  
Aragorn took off his crown and laid it upon the bed, then opened the armoire to search for his hunting clothes. After pulling on his old brown jerkin, doeskin jacket, and the leather arm bracers that had been worn by his late father, he strapped on his sword and slipped a dagger into a secret boot-sleeve. He slung a quiver of arrows on his back and grabbed his bow, then left his rooms and quickly made his way to the stables.  
  
Just as he was about to head out into the afternoon sun, he ran into his Head Guard, Faramir's older brother Boromir, who regarded his King and friend with a disapproving scowl.  
  
"Not now, Boromir. I must have some time away from this place." Aragorn said shortly, brushing past the younger man. "I am going hunting".  
  
"Well, since it will take awhile to have your horse readied, pray tarry with me awhile." The guard responded, knowing that he had him.  
  
"Damn your wit, Son of Denethor." The King retorted, but with a sigh, halted his steps and signaled for a stable hand to prepare his stallion, then turned to face his friend. "If this is about my going off alone, you know it is battle you will not win."  
  
"Nay, Sire, I have a more…delicate…matter to discuss."  
  
"Why do I not like the sound of this…"  
  
"Aragorn, you are fast approaching forty, and have yet to take a bride, let alone produce an heir. There are several suitable maids around the kingdom, if you would just meet them. For example, there is Rhiannon, daughter of the Duke of Pendur, or there is lovely Malian of-"  
  
"Yes, all young and happy maids, who have never laid eyes upon me. And I will keep it that way for as long as possible." Aragorn turned away, his face bitter. "Better for them to remain in the homes of their childhoods than to waste away in the royal bedchamber, like my mother did".  
  
Now it was Boromir's turn to sigh. "For you and Gondor to remain without a queen is a possibility that will soon cease to exist. If you die without a son, chaos will feed upon the land. I know you intend to appoint my brother as successor, but jealous and powerful members of court will not accept it."  
  
Aragorn was silent for a moment. He knew Boromir was right, and he loved his kingdom and people far too much to let it go to waste after his death. He would soon have to choose a bride…  
  
A loud, furious neigh broke his thoughts, and with a grin he watched the poor stable boy attempt to guide a tall, black stallion into the courtyard without getting kicked in the head. Stepping forward to calm his steed, Aragorn spoke to Boromir under his breath. "It is a matter that I shall consider, but not today. I remind you, old friend, that your concerns are with the affairs of my armies, not my personal life." With that, the King swung himself up into the saddle, taking the reins from the attendant and securing his bow to his back. With a kick, the stallion carried the King out of the courtyard, through the city and out into the wild, and Aragorn did not look back once. Which is why he missed the anger and strange glint in Boromir's brown eyes, before the Head Guard turned and disappeared into the palace.  
  
Several hours later, the sun had sunk to rest upon the ridges of the mountains, infusing the sky with twilight colors of lavender and coral. Evening birds sounded their mournful warbles, and a light breeze stirred the feathery branches of the trees, cooling the air.  
  
Aragorn rode swiftly through the woods, but paid little attention to where his horse was going. He had been lost in his thoughts for quite some time, never realizing that he was further away from home than he had ever been. The joy and triumph of the hunt and soon given way to brooding over the troubles that faced Gondor, and the many hares that hung in bag near his stirrup did little to cheer the King.  
  
The stallion, even in his powerful canter, was skittish in the dark and unfamiliar territory. He raced on even faster, hoping to escape the woods and its precarious root-gnarled floor. Suddenly, a slim green snake darted out right before his burnished hooves, and with a piercing squeal, the frightened horse reared up sharply, throwing the stunned King from his back. Aragorn shouted, but when his head glanced off a rock, he crumpled silently to the ground, his mind falling into darkness as the moon rose high above him, blinding him with its silver glow.  
  
  
  
A/N: Like it? Hate it? Let me know! I'll try to post more soon…but reviews may help fuel my writing ^_^. Thanks for reading! 


	2. The Queen

Idylls of the King: The Queen  
  
Thanks and love to all those who reviewed!-morrigan  
  
  
  
Jasmine…green, and…sandalwood? Since when did his chambers smell like perfume? Aragorn groaned, shifting as he came awake, but was still too tired to open his eyes. His head throbbed oddly, as if he had been drinking all night…did he? As the King struggled to remember, he suddenly felt a hand on his forehead. He realized that he wasn't even in his own room, and could very well be still lying on the forest floor, with some robbing cur bent over him. Aragorn lay very still, his eyes shut, and bided his time.  
  
He didn't have to wait very long. The instant the hand lifted from his brow, Aragorn shot up, grabbing the offending wrist with one hand and recovering the dagger from his boot with the other. But when he attempted to open his eyes to see just whom he had captured, he found that couldn't, for they were held shut with some sort of blindfold.  
  
Now enraged, Aragorn gave a hard yank on the wrist he held, and was rewarded with a startled cry and a clatter as something crashed to the floor. His keen senses anticipated the movement of the person's other hand, and he quickly caught the other wrist as well, imprisoning it with its mate in his strong grasp. Breathing harshly, the King brought his blade to press against the unfamiliar neck, and heard the stranger catch a fearful breath.  
  
"Who are you, to dare and attack the King? Tell me, and I may spare your life."  
  
His question was greeted with silence, than he heard a string of something he supposed to be words, light and trilling and flowing into one another as if they were carried on water, not air. It was at the same time the most strange and most beautiful thing Aragorn had ever heard, and his knife wavered as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard.  
  
"What…what are you saying? I do not understand." More melodious sounds followed, and the King felt lost and utterly confused. "Who are you…what are you?"  
  
Before he could be answered, he heard a door open, and quicker than he could react, both his prisoner and his dagger were whisked away from him. Aragorn made as if to leap up and fight, but two hands firmly pushed him back down, before mercifully removing his blindfold.  
  
His gaze fuzzed and flickered, before clearing to take in his strange…exotic, even, surroundings. He found himself in some sort of stone- walled room, almost like a cave. In niches and upon table surfaces candles blazed cheerily, and the whole space was perfumed by the flowers and fauna that hung from the walls. He was resting upon a low bed, and upon a chair at his head, sat the most lovely and frightening thing he had ever seen, a woman who seemed to cast a glow not unlike that of the moon. She was tall, even while sitting, and Aragorn didn't doubt that she would tower over his own frame. Her dark golden hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders to meet her waist, pulled back from her brow with metal ornaments studded with pearls and chiming discs. Her glistening white gown pooled around her feet, voluminous skirts spilling from a tight bodice that was sewn with gold thread. Upon her forehead she bore a metal circlet, woven of gold and silver, and centering upon the moon-shaped mark in the center of her brow.  
  
Aragorn held his breath, not trusting himself to move without somehow upsetting or angering the young woman…at least, her face was young, but her silver-blue eyes held a darkness and wisdom that only came with an age of many, many hard years. She calmly retuned his gaze, before speaking. Much to the King's amazement and relief, she spoke the tongue of his homeland.  
  
"I am pleased to see that are awake and able after such a fall, and such a deep wound to the head. You have been asleep for two days, in your time reckoning, at least. How are you feeling now?"  
  
Aragorn cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "I-I am well, my lady. The sleep did me much good, although my head hurts anew."  
  
The woman smiled thinly, amused as she slowly reached towards his brow with a cloth. When she pulled away to show it to him, he found it stained with his blood. "You have opened the cut again when you accosted your healer".  
  
"Oh…" Aragorn suddenly felt embarrassed. "Was that you? I am awfully sorry, fair lady, but I was unsure of where I was".  
  
"I know; your actions were understandable. But nay, it was not me you startled, but my grandson, who was tending to your wound".  
  
"I wish to see him, to apologize".  
  
The woman held up her hand, dismissing his request with such ease and coolness Aragorn knew he was in the presence of no mere woman, but an experienced queen. "Later, hasty child. Let us first discuss who you are, and just how one of your kind came to be here".  
  
"Yes, my La-wait…what, pray tell, do you mean by 'your kind'? I am no commoner, if that is what you think. I am Aragorn Elessar, High King of Gondor, and no one, especially no woman, not even a queen, shall address me with such disrespect".  
  
As soon as he had said it, Aragorn knew it had been a mistake. The woman's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before she stood to be suddenly engulfed in a blinding white blaze. She become no longer flesh, but terrible silver fire in female shape, and her eyes where empty black slits that fixed upon the trembling King.  
  
He somehow heard her voice, echoing in his mind. "And how dare you address me with such disrespect, mere mortal! For my lineage and royalty surpasses all the kings and lords of Middle-Earth, and if you were to know what I truly am, the knowledge of it would leave you forever awed, King of Gondor!"  
  
He blinked, certain that this creature would kill him in its fury, but suddenly the presence flew from his mind, and the blaze disappeared to become the woman sitting upon her chair, studying him with a gaze that was once again calm.  
  
"I-I apologize…" Slowly, what she had said began to take hold. "You called me a mortal? Where am I? Some place of the gods? Am I dead?"  
  
She laughed, but not unkindly. "Nay, Aragorn. I call you mortal because you are in the city of the elves, immortal folk indeed, but who live in Middle-Earth as surely as Men do. My grandson brought you here, after he found you not far from the entrance to our realm".  
  
"Elves? I thought that they had all disappeared, to become the folk of myths, before the lives of even the earliest men". Aragorn was stunned to hear that that fair folk did indeed exist, and if it weren't for the woman's strange display, he would have denied what she was telling him. He could remember when his mother used to whisper stories of the elves, beings that she held to be just and kind. His father, on the other hand, told him to forget such things; the elves were all dead, and when they had lived, they were devious and evil creatures, enchanters that were to be avoided at all costs.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "No, mortal. Elves live and thrive, as they have always done, but not here. They are the folk of Valinor, a holy isle that lies far outside your westernmost sea, and the knowledge of men. Many elves of this city came from there, under my command many years ago. They and their descendants are the only elves to ever have seen Middle-Earth, and until this day none have seen a human".  
  
"Are you their queen, then, my Lady?"  
  
"Once I was, many years ago, before the towers of Gondor were ever built. Now my son, Thranduil, is King here. He is looking forward to meeting you, Aragorn, when are fully recovered".  
  
"I am fine, now, your Majesty". Aragorn attempted to stand to prove his health, but his head buzzed, and his steps faltered.  
  
"No, you are to rest in here until tomorrow. I will leave you now, son of Arathorn. No doubt you have many things to think of". She stood to leave, but first helped Aragorn lie back down.  
  
"Lady?" He called, as she was about the leave the room. "Again, I wish to see your grandson, and apologize for my behavior".  
  
"I expect you to meet the whole royal family tomorrow, as they are very curious. You may apologize then". Anticipating his next question, she continued, "I have many names, mortal, but you may call me Lady Galadriel, as the elves do". She opened the door to exit out into a corridor, then closed the door behind her, leaving the King alone.  
  
As Aragorn felt his eyelids drift close once more, he realized he still had many questions for the queen. How, exactly, did she come to speak the language of Men? How did she know his father's name? And most puzzling was the magical form she had assumed in her anger…could all elves do such things?  
  
He attempted to ponder the issues further, but found it impossible in his renewed exhaustion. With a sigh, he rolled onto his side, then fell fast asleep to dream of elves and mystery until the morn.  
  
  
  
A/N: well, how am I doing? Like it? Hate it? Want me to get on with the slash already? Let me know, PLEASE!  
  
Next Chapter: Aragorn learns more about the elves, and meets the royal family…including Legolas! ^_^ 


	3. A Fateful Morn

Whew, finally updated! And lo, the slash begins!- morrigan  
  
  
  
Idylls of the King, Chapter 3: A Fateful Morn  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Aragorn awoke alone, but someone had clearly visited whilst he was asleep. On the stool where Galadriel had sat now rested his cleaned garments, and a small table held a steaming tray of food. The king slowly rose from the bed, stretching, and was relived to find his head no longer ached. He noticed a washbasin and a mirror on a nearby wall, and he hurried over, splashing cool water on his face, then ran his damp fingers through his dark hair, trying to calm the mused strands. Upon inspection in the mirror, he found his gray eyes still held an air of tiredness, but the cut upon his brow had nearly completely healed with nary a mark.  
  
He pulled off the sleeping robe someone had clothed him in, then slid into his hunting clothes, wishing he had something more formal to meet the elven king in. His stomach growled insistently, and Aragorn turned to the tray of food to find a bowl of broth, a handful of berries and nuts, and a cup of fresh milk. It was hardly a filling meal, but he had a feeling elven diets were naturally less hearty than the food he was used to eating, so he hurriedly ate, and was surprised that the seemingly simple broth held a complexity of tastes and spices.  
  
Just as he finished, he heard a knock on the door. Knowing it was probably Galadriel, but still instinctively wary, he tensed and readied to fight if needed, "Enter".  
  
The door opened to reveal the elven queen, clad in her usual white, but she wore an over-robe of heavy green velvet. She nodded her approval at his healthy and freshened appearance, and handed him a similar over-robe. "I am pleased that you fare well, King Elessar. I've brought you an elven robe, as it is quite cool this morning, and is perhaps more suitable, at least in your eyes, to an audience with my son".  
  
"Thank you, Lady". Aragorn took the cloak from her with a nod, then shrugged it on.  
  
Galadriel smiled. "Well, Aragorn, if you are ready, my son is waiting in the main hall". With that, she turned to leave, and motioned the human to follow.  
  
Aragorn followed the elven woman out of the room, and through long stone passageways that were lit with torches and decorated with tapestries and murals. After a while, they reached a door that, unlike the others they had passed, was gilded with gold and silver. Galadriel rested her hands on the latch, gave Aragorn and encouraging smile, and pushed open the door.  
  
He followed into a huge room, whose stone walls were polished and even, unlike the natural roughness of the corridors. The floor was tiled, and many candles hung from the ceiling in metal chandeliers. Plants, flowers, and even small trees grew in ceramic pots of soil, and fountains chimed with the musical sound of flowing water. Aragorn was so stunned by his surroundings; he scarcely noticed the elf that sat upon an ornate throne at the end of the room, or the other elves that stood at the foot of the dais.  
  
"King Thranduil of Mirkwood, I am pleased to introduce King Aragorn Elessar of Gondor, who has fully recovered from his hunting accident and wishes to thank you for your good will". She announced, than said something in her own native tongue, probably the same introduction.  
  
Aragorn tore his eyes from the beautiful ornaments and regarded the elven king as he followed Galadriel nearer to the throne. Her son looked even younger than his youthful mother, and had hair that fell like liquid silver around his ever-young face. His eyes were a light gray, and he was clad in a tunic, robe, leggings, and boots of white, silver, and green. He held a silver staff in his hand, and wore a crown similar to the one worn by his mother upon his brow. He looked back at the human was the same curiosity, then smiled, rising to come forward and clasp Aragorn's hand in a grip that betrayed great strength. "Welcome, Aragorn, to my realm! We are quite pleased to meet you, and hope you enjoy and learn much from your stay with us" Thranduil said, with an accent that was thicker than Galadriel's.  
  
Remembering protocol, Aragorn kneeled to bow, and returned the warm greeting, "Thank you, your majesty. I have no doubt that my time among your people will be most pleasant and enlightening.  
  
Thranduil smiled broadly, obviously pleased. He urged Aragorn to stand, and then beckoned for the other elves to come closer, "These are my children".  
  
Aragorn turned to face the five elves that looked back at him with utter amazement shining in their clear eyes, all silver-colored like their father's. The three males and two girls were wearing wraps and robes of white silk woven so thin they glowed like moth's wings in the candlelight.  
  
"The eldest, my daughter Isilvanar". The girl, or rather lady, who looked to be of twenty summers, stepped forward with a graceful nod, her poise and stature conveying her noble heritage and confidence. Unlike her siblings, she wore an elaborate circlet on her brow. Her hair was silver like Thranduil's, and her beauty was almost unnerving.  
  
"The twins, Celeduil and Celedriel". A boy and girl came forth, both with gray eyes and light gold hair, two creatures that looked so alike that despite the difference in their gender, Aragorn knew he would have great difficulty telling them apart.  
  
"Then my sons, Orbrindel and Thrandereth". Two boys, with silver hair and eyes like their eldest sister, bowed respectfully.  
  
"And my youngest, it seems, is not here". Thranduil looked both paternally amused and regally displeased, and asked his children something in the elven speech. They shook their fair heads, and the elven king sighed.  
  
"Can your children speak my language, your majesty?" Aragorn asked politely, although he too was curious where the youngest prince or princess was.  
  
Thranduil shook his head, and replied, "Nay, except for Isilvanar, who was taught because she is my heir".  
  
"Your heir?" Aragorn said before he could stop himself, surprised that a princess could inherit the throne. Then he thought of Galadriel, and admitted it wasn't so shocking after all.  
  
Before Thranduil could respond, a door behind them opened noisily, and all turned to see whom the newcomer was. The elven king raised an eyebrow in reproach, his children grinned, and Galadriel smiled slightly. Aragorn however, was in a much different state, as his eyes widened and his breath caught as he looked upon the youngest royal child of Mirkwood.  
  
The young elf was almost painfully beautiful, with delicate features and soft, carmine lips set against the snow-white ivory of his skin. His eyes, unlike all the others of his family, were a deep sapphire, flecked with glimmers of gold, and were thickly fringed with long, dark blonde lashes. His hair was like spun gold that hung in a silken curtain over his slender shoulders, and was licked with strands of silver that shone in the dim candlelight. The soft hair was pulled back from his face with an intricate pattern of delicate braids, revealing the pointed elven ears. Unlike his siblings, the lad was dressed in what looked to be hunting clothes, soft leggings of green, an embroidered white tunic belted over a thin white chemise, and thin doeskin boots that wrapped tightly around his small feet and were secured to his calves with gilded cords. From the slight flush on his high cheekbones and the faint smudge of dirt on his brow, it was obvious he had spent his morning in the wild, rather than readying himself for an introduction with the human king.  
  
Said king was finding it rather difficult to take his eyes from the young prince, although he knew it was rude to stare so openly. And when the child smiled at him, amusement and wonder sparkling in the pools of his eyes, Aragorn thought he would be forever blinded from his brilliance.  
  
He barely heard Thranduil's next words, as the elven king stepped forward and rubbed the smudge of earth off his son's brow, scolding him lightly in the elvish tongue. Galadriel then stepped forth, taking her grandson's elbow and gently guiding him to stand across from Aragorn, and spoke, "And this young one is Legolas. His name means 'green-leaf' in your speech, and he was named such because after his birth he reached not for his mother, but for the trees. It was he that found you, and tended your injuries".  
  
Aragorn shook himself alert, then bowed low, hearing his heart thud in his ears. "I am honored and most grateful, Prince Legolas. I am also extremely sorry for startling you in such a manner whilst you aided me yester eve."  
  
Galadriel translated his words, and then he heard Legolas laugh softly, his voice very light and sweet, sounding very much like the song of birds. He felt the prince's hand on his shoulder, urging him up, and shook his head in forgiveness. Aragorn returned the smile, then proffered his own hand in a sign of friendship. Legolas looked confused, and the King felt like a fool as he remembered that his gesture was a human custom. But then Galadriel placed the prince's hand in his, and Legolas smiled, a bit shyly, and returned his firm grasp. And thus the King of Men and the Prince of Elves were introduced, and as Galadriel looked upon their clasped hands, she closed her eyes, and felt both joy and grief as she glimpsed what was to come of their meeting.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Yeah, I know utter crappy sap, but I wanted to get it over with, because I'm really excited to write the next chapter. I'm thinking Aragorn will learn Elvish, and begin to realize he's in love (dreamy sigh)…and I'll explain the fate of Legolas' mother. Oh, and I have a question for you guys: do you want the whole Aragorn-learns-elven-lore-from-Galadriel to be included in detail, or do you want me to gloss over it? I'm one of those Silmarillion nuts who just loves to alter Arda history to suit their own purposes, so I'm well prepared to delve into the matter if wanted! Thanks a lot for reading, and PLEASE review.  
  
If I get enough reviews, I just might post this one-shot Aragolas sappy, citrusy piece I have planned…^_- 


	4. The Palace of Art

Idylls of the King  
  
Chapter Four: The Palace of Art  
  
Sorry, took me forever to update, and this site shut-down didn't help much, either. Hope you guys like it! -morrigan  
  
  
  
It had been a few weeks since Aragorn had come to Mirkwood, and the human king could hardly remember a time when he had so much fun. The elven life seemed so pleasant and free of cares, and they all welcomed him, despite his strangeness to them. He knew he had his own duties back in Gondor, but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. His decision had been eased by Galadriel, who told him that time passed by more quickly in Mirkwood than the realms outside, due to her magic, and to the humans back home, his leave had only been a few days, rather than weeks.  
  
Aragorn had spent a generous part of each day with the elven queen, learning from her all he could of the history of the elves and their home of Valinor. The tales of the Valar fascinated him the most, for men had yet to worship any gods in name, and so he learned of Yavanna and Aule and the like, and Galadriel knew much about the queen of the gods, Varda. But the lady would never answer any of Aragorn's questions about her past, or her magic, and soon the mortal learned not to mention such matters.  
  
But they were plenty other things to learn, and Aragorn was trying the best he could to learn Elvish, but it very difficult for him, and he doubted his human tongue could ever perfectly produce the musical tones of the ancient language. Galadriel was a patient teacher, and she reassured him that it was much easier for an elf to learn the human speech than the reverse.  
  
Learning such lore and skills was a draining process, so after his lessons with Galadriel Aragorn spent much time exploring the realm of Mirkwood, which in reality wasn't a natural wood at all. It in fact was a sprawling subterranean citadel, and the elves lived in dwellings hewn from the cavern walls, which were connected with internal passageways and wooden walkways that stretched along the exterior of the structures. From the very rear wall of the huge cave roared a powerful waterfall, which became a wide river that weaved through the elven city, feeding the many plants and trees that blanketed the cavern floor. Aragorn was amazed that such a marvelous forest could thrive in the rocky soil, but he had a feeling the magic of Galadriel helped quite a bit. Through crevices in the high ceiling, air and light could enter, and on some days rain seeped through, creating a thin mist that floated among the trees.  
  
The palace was on the opposite wall from the waterfall, and to walk from it to the falls took nearly a whole day's journey. Near to the palace were the market place and a vast public hall for gatherings and events, as well as a school for the elven children that was run by Celeborn, Galadriel's husband, and a temple of some sorts, in which Galadriel spent much of her time. Then the wall-structures thinned out, to become the villages of the common elves, and nearest to the waterfall were defensive structures, forts and watchtowers that were always manned by a company of elven archers, for the waterfall cloaked a passageway that led to the outside world, and it was the only way anyone could leave or enter.  
  
This particular day, Aragorn found himself glancing at the waterfall, though it could hardly be seen from the palace. Galadriel noticed his gaze, and stopped her tale of the moment.  
  
"You have a question, Aragorn?"  
  
"Well…yes, actually, I do". Aragorn turned to face the lady, then asked, "How did the elves come to live here, in this cave? You have said before that after you led them here from out of the west, they spread over much of Middle-Earth".  
  
Galadriel was silent, then smiled sadly. "I knew you would ask this, so I am prepared to answer. But this tale is a sad and difficult one…are you certain you wish to know? It may reveal some things about your people that may anger or upset you."  
  
Aragorn, now more intrigued then ever, nodded his head eagerly.  
  
"Many ages ago, before the coming of Men, the elves did indeed live in the many regions of this fair land, and formed their own kingdoms and lines. But when Men passed over the eastern mountains, where they had awoke, our downfall came upon us as swiftly as our glory had. At first, elves and Men tried to co-exist, attempting to learn each other's languages and ways, and for the most part Men remained in the south, where your Gondor lies now. But Men, as you know, are hardly ever content with where they are and what they have, and began to come north and set up settlements and forts among the elven villages. The elves tolerated this for awhile, but then Men forgot all they learned and gained from the elder elves, and began to think of them as weak and even deceitful or evil, for the elves were so different from them, in many ways. The wars between the two peoples began, and the elves were no match for the human armies and weapons, since elves had no use for either before the Men came. Sometimes the men would massacre whole kingdoms at a time, and would often take elven youths and maids, willing or nay, to their beds for sport. Soon, only my land of Lothlorien remained, to which all survivors of the raids had fled, but I knew it was only a matter of time before my kingdom would be destroyed as well. I had the option to sail west back to Valinor with the remnants of the elves, which perhaps only numbered two or three thousand, but I wished to stay in Middle-Earth. So Thranduil's elder sister, Areduil took all those who wished to return, and I stayed with Celeborn, Thranduil, and about a thousand and fifty elves, and led them to this place, where we have lived ever since. Men thought we had all left these shores, and eventually forgot about us, and built cities where ours once were." At this, she turned to regard Aragorn with a fond smile. "You are the first human I have met in over three-thousand years, and probably the kindest one of them all. It seems to me that there is hope yet for the race of Men."  
  
The human king, however, was in no similar state of contentment. "You mean that the demise of the elves, all the evil they have suffered, came from the hands of my people?"  
  
"It is regrettable to say, but yes."  
  
Aragorn was shocked and disgusted, "Did they really…steal elves away from their homes for their own sick pleasure?"  
  
Galadriel swiftly answered, "You mistake me, Aragorn. I do not make Men to all be vile rapers, but in truth it did happen occasionally. But not all such pairings were born of lust and cruelty; some elves did indeed find true and loving mates among humans. But this was rare and short-lived, for humans die so easily, and only one man survived to come with his elven mate here in Mirkwood. But he of course died within a few score of years, and his mate wasted away with grief soon after…I remember it, so sad it was. Not only did the young elf die, but also the child he carried". Galadriel turned to peer over the balcony, a zephyr of wind stirring her gown and waves of hair. "The babe would have been a girl, and the first half-elf to ever be born".  
  
"Did you say he? The elf was a male?" Today's lesson was becoming a very startling one indeed.  
  
Galadriel laughed lightly, turning to face the human. "Some elven males can bear children, but not all." She reached to rest her hand sympathetically on Aragorn's shoulder. "It seems you have still much to learn, King Elessar, but not today, I think we both have had enough. Come, let us go to supper."  
  
Aragorn nodded, relieved, and followed the elven lady out onto a walkway that led to the public hall. Each week, the royal family held a public feast, and all of Mirkwood was invited to attend, and all elves often did so. It was one of the many ways that Thranduil was able to remain close to his people, and it was closeness Aragorn admired greatly. But tonight was an even more special occasion; it was a night for the greatest bards and dancers to perform, and Aragorn was quite looking forward to it.  
  
Inside the hall, Galadriel and Aragorn greeted many elves on their way to the table where the royal family sat. Thranduil and Celeborn already sat there, talking animatedly with all whom approached, and near them were Isilvanar and her siblings. Aragorn groaned when he saw the twins dressed in identical robes of blue, for Celeduil and Celedriel found great mirth in confusing the untrained eye of the human.  
  
Galadriel sat between her husband and their granddaughter, while Aragorn sat on the other side of Thranduil. The elven king clapped him on the back, beaming at him, and said, "Well, Elf-friend, how was today's lesson?"  
  
Aragorn laughed. "Quite overwhelming, actually".  
  
"Oh? Well, then you shall greatly enjoy tonight's feast…some of the most talented in my realm are here to entertain; even my son Legolas is performing tonight".  
  
To his shame, Aragorn felt a warmth spread through his body and heat his face at the mention of the prince's name. He waited a few moments to ensure the strength of his voice, before politely saying, "Really? He is a singer?"  
  
"Yes, but tonight I think he is dancing. He is one of the best…just like his mother was". At this, Thranduil's voice grew sad and he looked away.  
  
Aragorn was greatly curious about the fate of Thranduil's mysterious wife, but knew it was certainly not the time or place to bring it up. Luckily, he was saved from the awkward situation by the sound of music from the large group of magicians that played as they strolled among the tables. The guests, all seated, turned to look expectantly at a curtained archway in the far wall.  
  
The curtains billowed outwards, and a dancer emerged, leaping gracefully from the azure fabric as if he was a dolphin rising from the sea. He was clad in a shimmering pale green fabric that wrapped around his waist to form a sheath skirt that fell to his knees. The same sheer silk clung to his torso as it rose to knot over one of his shoulders, leaving the other bare. A belt of silver chimes and discs rested low on his slim hips, and similar ornaments were plaited in his lose, light blonde hair. A bangle circled his left ankle, and upon his right wrist was a bracelet inlaid with pearls. Around his neck gleamed a necklace of silver and gold strands that were shaped to look like small leaves, and his sapphire eyes were outlined in black, so that even those farthest away were ensnared by their intensity.  
  
Those eyes Aragorn could recognize in a heartbeat, and he found himself unable to take his gaze off Legolas, as he spun and leapt to the music, often clapping his hands in time to the jubilant rhythm. Thranduil clapped proudly, and then gestured to the plates of food on the table before them, "Come, Aragorn, let us eat!"  
  
But Aragorn could not, and at that moment he cared naught if he ever ate another meal again. As the elves in the hall began to feast and talk amongst themselves, the human sat there, immobile, watching the prince as he danced ever closer to the royal table. He moved from his siblings to spin by Aragorn's seat, then froze with a pause in the music, resting perfectly on one arched foot, the other outstretched behind him, his arms gracefully held above his head. He and the human king were nearly face-to- face, and mortal gray eyes met with immortal blue. Aragorn felt as if all the others in the hall melted away, and would have been content to gaze at the beautiful prince for the rest of his days. But then the music began once more, and Legolas floated away, but his eyes glanced back over his shoulder, and Aragorn was surprised to see a faint blush color the elf's high cheekbones.  
  
Then, Aragorn felt other eyes upon him, as if his entire soul were being searched. He busied himself with cutting open a dinner roll and talking with Thranduil, but it was a long while before Galadriel would look away from him.  
  
  
  
The feast had lasted long into the night, and even after Thranduil had retired, as some elves remained in the hall to talk and sing. Most, however, had left long ago for their homes, as another peaceful night fell upon the sylvan cave.  
  
Aragorn, wrapped in his thick cloak, had stopped at the main palace balcony, and looked over all of Mirkwood in wonder. A thick mist had formed in the air, hiding the cavern walls, and the lights that flickered from the elven homes shone faintly through the fog, mimicking the glow of stars.  
  
He heard the sound of light footsteps, and turned to see Legolas coming towards him from the great hall, still dressed in the light raiment of his dance. The prince smiled at him, and hurried to the king's side.  
  
Aragorn and Legolas had spent much of their time together, as Legolas was often free; being the youngest child of seven, he hardly had many royal duties, and was eager and proud to show the man around his father's kingdom. To Aragorn's amazement, the elf had swiftly learnt quite a bit of the human speech, and the king was moved that he had learned it for him alone. He greatly enjoyed the prince's company, and could hardly remember a time when he had smiled and laughed as he had during his stay among the fair folk.  
  
Tonight, Legolas took hold of his friend's arm and pulled him to race through the palace, and Aragorn indulgently followed. He recognized where he was being led: to the makeshift stable where his horse was kept. The first time the prince had took him to see his steed, Aragorn had been amazed at how obediently the horse had responded to the elf, and was no longer wild and dangerous.  
  
Legolas hurried ahead, unlatching the stall door and entering slowly, speaking to the animal with low, soothing words. The horse whickered in response, and as Aragorn reached the stable, it nuzzled the elf's golden hair, chewing playfully at the winnowing strands.  
  
"I think he likes you better than me, Legolas." Aragorn mused, smiling as the prince gently patted the horse's neck.  
  
"Be friend. Not master." Legolas replied wisely, then suddenly grabbed the man's hand and tugged at him insistently. "You ride, yes? Can show?" He asked, now a bit shy, and looked up at the mortal with wistfulness glowing in his blue eyes.  
  
"That's right…you elves don't keep horses…I bet you've never even been on one…" Aragorn murmured, looking at the wall, where the royal bridle hung. The rest of his tack, including the saddle, was in the palace for safekeeping, but the king was no stranger to riding bareback. He took the heavy, leather bridle bedecked with silver crests and bells, then slid it carefully over the stallion's head, fitting the bit and adjusting the buckles before lifting the reins to rest on the horse's withers.  
  
He skillfully leapt onto the animal's back, grabbing the reins and clucking soothingly as the stallion pranced a bit, startled. When the dancing hooves quieted, Aragorn reached a hand down to the elven prince, who himself looked a bit nervous. But he looked at the king's outstretched hand, then clasped his arm, and was easily pulled up to sit behind the human on his steed's back. Aragorn guided Legolas' arms to rest around his torso, then said sternly, "Legolas, hold on as tight as you can, don't let go, no matter what. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes." The prince said solemnly, then tightened his hold, and pressed himself closely to the man's broad back, resting his cheek upon one velvet- clad shoulder.  
  
Aragorn felt the liquid beat of the elven heart against his back, and closed his eyes briefly as the night breeze lifted the prince's soft hair to ghost against the skin of his neck. With a grin, he urged the horse forward with a light kick, and the animal carried the king and prince out into the forests of Mirkwood  
  
The hooves thundered as they struck the forest ground, smoothly cantering over shallow brooks and rocky paths. With light pressure on the bit, Aragorn guided the horse as it wove among the shadowy trees, the only illumination falling from the houses high above them. Behind him, Legolas gasped with delight, lifting his face to feel the wind rush over his skin.  
  
The horse was eager and well rested over its weeks in the stable, and soon it carried its riders quite far from the palace. The overhead lights were rare now, and Aragorn reluctantly slowed the horse to a walk, trusting the animal to pick its way through the dark forest. Hearing a stream ahead, Aragorn slid off to guide the horse to drink, leaving Legolas upon its back. The elven prince fell forward with a tired but contented sigh, one arm dangling over the horse's neck, while his other hand tangled tightly in the midnight-colored mane, and watched the human walking besides him with bright eyes.  
  
The horse stopped at the stream-bank, and lowered its head to drink. Aragorn reached up to help Legolas dismount, and when the elf had rested his hands upon the king's shoulders, he lifted the light form off easily. As he did so, Legolas' hair fell about their faces like a silken curtain, and Aragorn inhaled deeply, smelling the familiar combination of scents that was unique to the elven prince.  
  
He held Legolas longer than necessary, not a hard thing to do, since he felt no heavier than a feather, and Aragorn noted how his fingers nearly met as his hands cradled the elf's slim waist. Although he was loathe to do so, he then placed placed Legolas' bare feet on the mossy ground, then saw to the horse, slipping of the bridle to allow for grazing.  
  
When he turned, he saw the elf sitting serenely upon a high rock, absently swinging a long leg to and fro. To Aragorn, it seemed as if Legolas was a creature from myth, so beautiful and ethereal he was. His pale skin glowed with the inner light that resided in all elves, as if his physical body had been woven around one of Varda's beloved stars. The luminescence cast a silver wash over the glen, and in a branch above, a nightingale warbled softly. Aragorn struggled not to blink, fearing that all he beheld was a dream, for so perfect and beautiful it was. But when his eyes closed briefly then opened once more, Legolas was still perched there, his eyes now peering at the human.  
  
Aragorn walked over to him slowly, wondering if sitting besides the prince uninvited was too forward. As he paused, considering this, Legolas suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit on the rock as well. With a fond murmur, he reached up to touch the king's dark hair, surprising Aragorn, who sat motionless and gazed at the luminescent elf's delicate features, feeling quite content as the deft fingers ran through the mused midnight strands. Soon, however, Legolas withdrew his touch, and the human felt disappointment and longing stir in his heart.  
  
"Here!" Legolas laughed, holding his hands out to show Aragorn the leaves and twigs he had removed, bits of Mirkwood that inadvertently ended up in the man's hair during the ride. He tossed them away, then looked out once more on the beauty of his father's realm.  
  
Aragorn, however, had eyes only for the beauty sitting next to him, less than a hand's breadth away. Looking upon the elf's long eyelashes, slightly upturned nose, soft lips and elegantly pointed ears, he could no longer resist the temptation to touch the elf.  
  
Silently, slowly, he reached over to gently turn Legolas' face back to his, then ran his fingers through the liquid fall of his silver-gold hair, on the pretense of returning the leaf-removing favor. Deep down, he knew the soft strands were clean, for Legolas had been well sheltered behind the king's much larger frame. But how could he stop, watching the elf's silken hair flow through his rough fingers like water, and he inhaled the faint fragrance of jasmine, which Legolas always seemed to exude. It was fast becoming Aragorn's favorite scent, just as the prince's dulcet voice raised in song was now the most treasured sound of all to the King of Gondor.  
  
Soon, caressing Legolas' hair was no longer enough, and Aragorn could not help it as his touch moved to feel the smoothness of the elf's pale cheek, and Legolas' eyes widened, but then they closed, their fringe of thick lashes laying flush against his high cheekbones, and his lips opened slightly with a sigh.  
  
His gaze now drawn to the prince's lovely mouth, Aragorn let his fingers drift down to rest against the perfect lips, and to him it seemed that they were made of rose petals, so soft was their texture. He could feel Legolas' breath waft past his fingertips, and was relieved that the prince was breathing evenly and calmly, and did not seemed frightened at all.  
  
The last thing Aragorn wanted to do was offend or startle the fair being in any way, yet he could no sooner stop his tender explorations than he could stop the rapid beating of his mortal heat. His hand drifted lower still, tracing the long, slim neck to rest at the base of the elf's throat, feeling the silkiness of his skin as it stretched over the delicate bones of his neck and chest.  
  
Legolas emitted a soft sound, something between a whimper and a sigh, and Aragorn's gaze was pulled from the elf's throat to his eyes, which had opened to stare back at him with pupils so dilated, the sapphire irises were no more than thin rings of blue. Their intensity and beauty so affected the man that he decided he had better stop his curious hands, ere he do something that might upset the elf. Clearing his throat, he moved his fingers from the elf's skin to the elaborate necklace he wore. Aragorn didn't have to feign admiration for the craftsmanship that had formed the leaves out of gold and silver with such unsurpassable skill.  
  
The prince smiled, then reached up to touch the necklace as well. "You like, yes?"  
  
"Yes…it's very beautiful."  
  
"From my mother…she wore all of day, since was child". Legolas murmured, then with his other hand motioned to his face. "Look like her, father says."  
  
"Then she too must have been quite lovely…but you have never seen her?"  
  
Legolas' smile melted a bit, and his hands rested silently in his lap. Aragorn immediately wanted to kick himself for prying, but then the elf spokes softly, "Nay…she go west…after I born. Too long she lived in cave, missed the sun…parents, friends…" Now his composure was faltering, "She…not want me! Left me…" Legolas' voice broke, and to Aragorn's shock, he saw tears spill from the elf's lucid eyes.  
  
"Oh, Legolas…" He drew the prince close, letting him cry into his shoulder. "Aye, your mother may have not wanted to live in this place, fair though it is, but I can vow, she did love you. She knew she could not do you well, raising you while unhappiness lived in her heart. But of course she wanted you…I have a feeling all that look upon you cannot help but care for you…" He said the last with humor, but it rang with truth.  
  
Aragorn was relieved when the elf quieted, but grew concerned yet again when he felt the coolness of his bare shoulder. When Legolas shivered slightly as a breeze sang past them, he said, "I'm sorry, Legolas, I should have realized how cold you must be! Here…" He unfastened his cloak to wrap it around Legolas' slim shoulders, then pulled the prince close to him, enfolding him in his arms.  
  
Legolas' head fit perfectly in the hollow of the king's neck, and he whispered a grateful thank-you in elvish, his hands clutching at the front of the man's tunic. As Aragorn sat there, protectively holding the fair prince and resting his chin atop the golden head, he had never felt more at peace, and vowed to himself that such a beautiful being should never again be sad. And it was then that the King of Men realized that the strange feelings he harbored for Legolas went beyond friendship, protectiveness, or kindness…  
  
…Aragorn, for the first time in his life, was in love.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Awww…Aragorn's in looove (well, so's Leggy, but I'll save that for the next chapter). Yeah, I know, I kinda left them stranded in the forest, but I wanted to end this chapter where it stands…so let's just assume they got back to the palace safe and sound, 'kay? ^_^ 


	5. Courtly Love

Idylls of the King: Courtly Love  
  
  
  
Here's another chapter.finally! FYI, this is the second one I've uploaded since the return(s) of ff.net, so don't forget to read chapter five as well! And PLEASE review!-morrigan Oh! And the song Legolas sings is called "The Dark Night of the Soul", by Loreena Mckennitt; if you haven't heard her music, do so.she's fantastic! So yeah, neither half the characters nor the poem is mine, I'm just using them out of love!  
  
Over the course of the next few days, Aragorn managed to conceal his love for the youngest prince of Mirkwood, avoiding eye contact during meals and other such tactics. But outside the palace walls, Aragorn could deny Legolas nothing, and his plan of not being alone with the elf soon crumbled as he accompanied him on walks and horse-rides, which often ended with picnics and laughter. But the human king convinced himself that he could never be with the fair being.he was an elven prince; and besides, how could he ever love a mortal and inelegant man? And thus, Aragorn was determined to conceal his feelings forever, but one day he happened to reveal the secret of his heart, and all within a mere instant. He had been with Galadriel in her temple, discussing his impending return to Gondor, and what, exactly should he do with the knowledge of the elves and their culture that he now possessed. after all, neither of them wanted the dark past of men and elves to be repeated. The gauzy layers of curtain that shrouded the entryway were then pushed aside, allowing light to pierce the dim, candle-lit interior, and Legolas entered bearing a tray in his hands. Despite himself, Aragorn's eyes were drawn towards the prince, following the line of his slender arms through the sheer bell sleeves of his white blouse. Aragorn realized he had never seen Legolas in such an outfit, beautiful though it was. The thin white shirt was accompanied by a form-fitting green silk vest sewn with little gold flowers, which flowed down into a sort of skirt that fell mid- thigh over snow-white leggings. His feet, as usual were bare, and the delicate jewelry he wore around his ankles, waist, and brow glimmered in the light that shone behind him. "I've brought some tea, grandmother," Legolas murmured as he knelt besides the low table that Galadriel and Aragorn were sitting at. "It's almond and honey." All this was said in Elvish, and Aragorn marveled at how well he understood it, although he was not yet fluent in the musical tongue. Legolas' human speech, however, was nearly perfected. The elf poured the steaming brew into two small cups from a teapot, then handed one to Galadriel, who smiled in thanks. Legolas then offered tea to Aragorn, but he curiously did not meet the human's eyes, keeping his lowered gaze on the cup. Aragorn, hoping his hand wouldn't shake, took the cup with a nod and a tense thank-you. But in doing so, his fingers brushed against Legolas', and even at such a slight contact his heart sped up, and warmth spread low in his body. Embarrassed, the man drank his tea in silence, miserably studying the tabletop as if it were the most fascinating thing in all creation. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Legolas gather up the tray before gracefully rising to leave. Galadriel motioned for him to stay, but the prince shook his blonde head with a smile, saying "I promised Grandfather I'd help him at the school today." And with that, he left the temple and one rather uncomfortable king behind. As soon as the curtains fell again, Galadriel looked at the human with amusement shining in her ancient eyes. "My, my.in all truth, I never thought it would be Legolas who would capture your heart," She paused as Aragorn choked on his tea, before continuing casually, "I expected it to be Isilvanar, or at least Celedriel.they are female, after all. But I see you would settle for nothing less than the best my line has to offer." For a brief minute, Aragorn actually considered denying what the elven queen's keen eyes had detected, but he sensed that lying to such a creature would not be very successful. With a cough, he ran a nervous hand through his hair while the other set his teacup on the table. "I suppose you would want me to leave Mirkwood at once.although I wish to make it clear that I never intended for this to happen, and I have never told Legolas what I feel for him." "Oh, calm yourself, King of Men, for you mistake my words." Galadriel rose and stood before the basin of her magical mirror, now empty of water, and rested her hands on the cool stone brim. "I have foreseen all about you, and your coming here, Aragorn. I knew that when you left Mirkwood, you would not go alone. I merely thought you would take one of the princesses to be your mate.although I admit now that Legolas is a much better match. I should have known; he always had a deep sense of adventure and curiosity, much more so than his siblings." "I." Aragorn was speechless. To think that the elven woman had known his secret affection all along.had she told her son? Mortified at the thought of Thranduil's probable disgust, his face began to burn. "I am more surprised, however, that you believe your love is unrequited.which I can assure you is not true," At Aragorn's quizzical look, she continued with a soft smile, "Well, I suppose it's difficult for you to tell.you of course did not know Legolas before your arrival. But he was quite a different elf.he was always happy, and showed affection to all, but his eyes always held a certain.yearning. Legolas' resemblance to his mother seems to run deeper than appearance, and he would always ask me of what lies beyond Mirkwood.of Valinor and the Valar, but mostly of humans and their ways. I even taught him human speech alongside elvish when he was a child, and it seems the early knowledge of it has aided his communication with you. But that sad wistfulness left him the day he found you, for you bring him great joy, Aragorn, even in your mere presence. But surely you have noticed his attempts to win your attention.I have never seen him take so much care in his dress, and even his song and dance have seemed to strengthen. And, of course, bringing us tea.a servant's task rather than a prince's." The tension in the human's frame fled, and Aragorn longed to find Legolas to ask him if all that Galadriel said was true. But protocol had been instilled within him since his birth, and he had to make absolutely sure that his love for Legolas was not viewed as lewd or shameful by the elves, especially their king. "King Thranduil.does he know?" "Yes, of course.he was quite amazed at the effect your arrival has had on his son. And to be honest, Thranduil is also relieved. Isilvanar is quite independent and aloof, and could never be happy being second to a king; she was born to rule in her own right. Celedriel has no such pride, but she is a simple girl, content to live all her years in the palace.she would rather be a handmaiden to her sister than a wife to a human king. He knows that you can give Legolas all that he has ever wished for: happiness, adventure, and true love." Aragorn sat silently, trying his best not to crow with joy at the mere thought that Legolas might indeed love him back. He would go to the prince and ask him of his true feelings, and ask him to come back to Gondor with him, to remain at his side forever.but first, he had to speak with Legolas' father. Galadriel mused, "Thranduil is in the main hall, if you wish to speak with him." It was as if she was reading his mind-and she probably was. She walked to the entryway and drew back the curtains, motioning for Aragorn to stand and follow her out.  
  
The throne room was empty of all save the king, and Thranduil sat upon his great throne, a large book of bound, blank parchment resting in his lap. He was greatly engrossed in his writing, and only looked up when Galadriel and Aragorn reached the foot of his dais. With a warm smile, he pulled two small seats to face his chair, seats normally used by his children during formal audiences. He asked them to sit, and Aragorn thanked him politely as he climbed the thickly carpeted stairs. As he settled down onto the plush-cushioned chair, he felt Thranduil looking at him expectantly. Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, and tried to gather his thoughts. He was normally a very effective speaker and diplomat within the confines of his duties as king, but found himself unnerved and intimidated by the very thought of speaking with Thranduil. Then again, he was not asking the elven king for a trade agreement or arms treaty.he was asking for the right to marry his son. "King Elessar, you have something you wish to speak with me about?" Thranduil asked softly, barely managing to hide an amused smile. "Yes, your majesty." Aragorn paused, then took a deep breath. He prided himself on being a frank and honest man, and decided to get right to the matter at hand, "King Thranduil, as I believe you already know, I'm in love with your son.your youngest, Prince Legolas." "I see." Thranduil chuckled, "It's amusing to me that you seek my thoughts before you even approach my son.my mother has told me that this is a proper practice among humans." At Aragorn's nod, he added, "But I do not think that is all you have come to tell me." "No, it is not." Aragorn replied, and looked at Galadriel, who gave him an encouraging nod, "I have never been in love before, and I am nearly forty years of age.old for my people. But in the past few weeks, I have realized that those forty years of loneliness have yielded something so wonderful.a gift that I could have never thought possible. Your majesty, I love Legolas beyond all words, and I want nothing more than to make him happy. I have to come to you today to ask your permission for Legolas' hand in marriage.if he'll have me, that is." Thranduil stood, not saying a word. Worried he had somehow offended the elf, the king hurriedly spoke, "I know I should be asking for permission of courtship, before marriage, but I do not know how long I can further tarry here in Mirkwood before I leave for home, with Legolas.if both you and he wish it." Still, Thranduil said nothing. He walked around his throne and paced along the back wall, gazing up at the portraits of the royal family that were painted upon the stone surface. Looking up at Legolas' picture at the very end, he sighed, and began to speak. "All fathers, Aragorn, want to give their children everything, and to make them happy. So all my life, I have tried to do just that, with the seven children my dear wife bore me. Fathers, however, are also selfish. They long to keep their children near them forever, and dread the day that they grow up, and leave home. I have been luckier than most, having taken for granted that my children will never leave me.but I realize now that, at least where Legolas is concerned, I can only give him everything he wishes if I let him go. And if I must lose my youngest," Thranduil paused, striding over to Aragorn's chair and placed a hand on the king's shoulder, "Losing him to one such as you brings me great comfort. So in answer to your question, King Elessar, my reply is yes: you may take Legolas for your own, if he will have you.and from what my mother has been telling me, there is little question that he will." Aragorn dropped from his chair, bowing low at the feet of the elven king, joy making his voice shaky as he spoke, "My lord, my gratitude and loyalty for you and your kin shall be everlasting, this I swear." When he rose, he turned to find Galadriel looking at him with blue eyes clear and wise, and she spoke with a voice as powerful as it was soft, "Go to him, Aragorn."  
  
"It's been quite warm today, hasn't it, brother?" Celedriel sighed, pushing at strands of her hair that had escaped her braids and drooped into her eyes. "Mm." Legolas answered absently, peering up at the cave ceiling far above them. It had been unusually warm that day, and was still quite pleasant despite it being late evening. The prince squinted his eyes, and perhaps for a brief moment he was able to see the clear twilight sky, as he often dreamt. This Mirkwood evening was like every other. Lamps and candles flickered as they were lit throughout the cavern, and the scents of roasted meats and sweet herbs and roots began to float in the air as numerous evening meals were prepared. Legolas, Celedriel and Celeduil were relaxing on the rocks of the outermost palace courtyard, one that bordered the forest. The princess and princes could see the figures of elves finishing their work in the woods weave amongst the trees and leave for their homes. Above them, dinnertime conversation carried on pleasantly, and someone, somewhere, was playing a harp. These nighttime happenings were all familiar, but tonight, Legolas felt something else in the unusually warm air, an anticipation of something; whether it was good or bad the prince didn't know. Perhaps it had something to do with Aragorn, the mysterious human king who had become Legolas first mortal friend.and the first object of the young elf's love. Legolas had been fascinated with the human for the very first moment he saw him lying unconscious on the forest floor, and thought that friendship was the extent of his feelings. But nights ago when Aragorn had touched his face with a tenderness and reverence Legolas had never experienced, and comforted him in his sorrow, the prince realized what he felt for his friend was love, love so deep that he spent both his waking and his sleeping hours dreaming not of the outside world, but of its king. As the elf blushed at his thoughts, his brother stretched in lazy contentment before laying down on a moss-blanketed rock, and mused, "That harpist is quite skilled." "Yes.although this melody would be sweeter with a song.don't you agree, brother?" Celedriel said slyly. Legolas smiled at her. "Would you like me to sing, sister?" "Oh, please!" The princess clapped her hands gleefully. Legolas listened to the faint music of the harp, taking in its rhythm and tone. He naturally knew many songs to fit the simple melody, but desired to sing one which he had written himself just yesterday. It was a personal thing to share, but he would sing it in the human speech. His siblings wouldn't understand, but they wouldn't mind; to elves, a song's emotion carried much more weight than its lyrics. The elf sat up straight, closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and begun. "Upon a darkened night, the flame of love was burning in my breast, And by a lantern bright, I fled my house where all in quiet rest. Shrouded by the night, and by the secret stair I quickly fled. The veil concealed my eyes, while all within lay quiet as the dead. Oh night, the walls my guide! Oh night, more loving than the rising sun! Oh night, the child, the lover, the beloved one, Transforming each of them into the other. Upon that misty night, in secrecy beyond such mortal sight, Without a guide of light, than that which burned so deeply in my heart. The fire twas led me on, and shone more bright than of the midday sun, To where he waited still; it was a place where no one else could come. Oh night, the walls my guide! Oh night, more loving than the rising sun! Oh night, the child, the lover, the beloved one, Within my pounding heart, which kept itself entirely for him. He fell into his sleep; beneath the cedars all my love I gave. And by the fortress walls, the wind would brush his hair against his brow. And with its smoothest hand, caressed my every sense it would allow. Oh night, the walls my guide! Oh night, more loving than the rising sun! Oh night, the child, the lover, the beloved one, I lost myself to him, and laid my face upon my lover's breast. And care and grief grow dim, as in the morning's mist became the light. There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair. There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair. There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair."  
  
As the last note of the sweet, wistful song hovered in the air, Legolas reluctantly opened his eyes to return to a reality in which he was sure the tender love of the song did not exist. He looked at his brother and sister, their eyes still closed, smiling to themselves. And then, he saw him. Aragorn was standing close behind the oblivious twins, looking at Legolas with eyes that burned so bright they seemed to truly be afire. "Aragorn!" The prince gasped, startling the twins who turned to stare curiously at the human king. Celeduil began to greet him, but his sister quickly could tell that it was time to leave. "Come, brother, let's go see when dinner shall be ready." She stood, and tugged the other to his feet. "But it is served at the same time every-ow!" Celeduil scowled at her as the yanked him towards the nearby stairwell, but followed her into the palace, looking over his shoulder in puzzlement before they disappeared around a bend, and Legolas and Aragorn were left alone. "Aragorn.you startled me." The prince said, trying to do so in an even voice. Perhaps if he acted as if the song meant nothing, he would be spared the embarrassment of having his love for his dear friend revealed. The king said nothing, but came forward with long, determined strides, and before Legolas could react, held the elf's arms in his hands. "The song.Legolas! Tell me, what did you mean by it?" Fear and humiliation flooded through the prince, and he hid his face. "It.was nothing.just a harmless song." Comprehension, amazement, and joy played across the mortal's noble features, unseen by the flustered prince. "You love me." Legolas let out a strangled sound, and, managing to break free, leapt to his feet to stumble into the haven of the forest, blinded by his tears. He knows.he knows! was all the elf could think as he desperately tried to run from his shame. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around him from behind, stopping his flight. In that instant, Legolas lost all desire to flee, and did not struggle, just simply hung his head and cried silently. He knew Aragorn would speak at any moment, to tell him that while he understood, while they could remain friends, he didn't love him. And then Aragorn would leave him, and leave Mirkwood, and would never return. "Legolas.my beautiful, innocent one! Why do you run from me.how can you not know I love you so?" The king murmured softly, grieving as he felt the immortal's tears drip onto his hands. "Aragorn.what?" The elf asked in a quavering voice, not daring to believe what he had just heard. He felt the human's arms loosen, but only momentarily before Aragorn had turned him so that he found himself pressed between the man and a tree at his back. "I love you, Legolas. I have since the very moment of our meeting, and will to the very instant of death, and beyond. I want you to be mine forever.selfishness be damned!" The king watched as the elf's sad and confused face gave way to the most beautiful and happy smile he had ever seen. "Aragorn!" Legolas cried, the flung himself forward, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. He looked up into the face of his beloved, now knowing that the strange fire in Aragorn's eyes was neither disgust nor anger, but love and passion. "Aragorn.I love you! And there is no need to ask if I'll be yours." The elf lowered his eyes shyly, "I think.I was born to be yours." "Marry me." Aragorn whispered, framing Legolas' face with his hands, as green eyes seemed to peer into his very soul. "Oh, Aragorn, yes! Of course I will!" Legolas answered, not caring if anyone heard him. "My elf, my love." The king breathed, before briefly letting go of the prince to pull his father's ring, the symbol of his kingdom, from his hand. "I know the elven custom is matching silver bands, but this is all I have." He said, almost apologetically. The ring, which had fit his right index finger snugly, was too large for all of the elf's slender fingers save his thumb, but Legolas just smiled and shook his head. "It's perfect, my king." "You are perfect, my prince." And that being said, Aragorn lowered his lips to meet those of the elf, and they shared their first kiss as the green stone upon Legolas' finger gleamed silently in the dark.  
  
  
  
A/N: Okay, I got them in love and engaged! Not bad, eh? I know, very sappy, and Legolas was quite.girly.but it's my story, and that's the way I like it! Next chapter: The wedding.and the wedding night! Yup, that means, NC-17! 


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